Unbound
by Lynse
Summary: Jake bears the Mark of the Huntsclan. His destiny is to destroy dragons. What's he supposed to do when he realizes he is one? Huntsclan!Jake AU
1. The Hunt

A/N: This AU isn't mine—I was asked to write something with it on tumblr, but it apparently originates with The Dragon With The Dragon Birthmark by Zack Hiwatari-Chan, which is posted on this site—but I love the idea of it. This fic will be a bit different than my usual: short chapters and present tense, though still sporadic updates, especially since I'm not sure at this point how far it'll go since I've written every piece of it based off a prompt or title someone else has given me (chiefly tumblr's midnightstarhunter). It's posted here because a few people wanted to see it where they could easily follow it (and because I finally came up with a title). Standard disclaimers apply.

* * *

Jake hates what he is. It's wrong. Vile. Unnatural. But he wants to live, so he keeps his despicable secret. Rose finds out, of course—he could never keep a secret from her—and her help might be the only reason no one else in the Huntsclan discovers it. Her help might be the only reason he can survive.

Jake is convinced this is a curse. It can't be anything else. He bears the Mark of the Huntsclan. His destiny is to _destroy_ dragons, destroy all the magical creatures that taint their world, and instead he develops _magical powers_? Worse still, a _dragon form_? How can he be a _dragon_ when he's a member of the _Huntsclan_?

But the dragons don't know him from any of the other initiates, not like they would Rose who's become Huntsgirl. This may be a test, but to what end? A way to test his secret-keeping skills? His honesty? The discovery skills of his fellow Huntsmates? There is no record of this in the books, but is one initiate always afflicted with this curse or something similar by one of their own? With such secrecy amongst the ranks, he can't bring himself to dismiss the possibility. Especially when it may simply be to test his loyalty. Perhaps, if he brings them a dragon hide, makes his first dragon kill, this will go away.

He and Rose don't know about their families, not like those who were actively recruited when they were older. All he knows is that dragons hide in human skin, and if this isn't a curse…. What is it, then? Does he really have dragon blood running through his veins? Neither he nor Rose know enough about any of this to use Jake's human appearance as a possible clue as to what the American Dragon and her family could look like—or any other dragons that may have infested the country, for that matter—but Jake's dragon powers didn't develop by mere chance.

He was either born with them or cursed with them.

They're smart, and they learn what they can. They realize that when Jake changes, his clothes are never damaged, and whatever he was wearing will reappear whenever he changes back. Whenever it's safe to, they practice, running the same drills over and over until Jake is able to change flawlessly and quickly between forms. He would not be so dedicated if Rose had not pointed out what an opportunity this was, but once he does, he latches on that as the only upside in all of this, a sure-fire way to destroy the American Dragon, maybe to destroy them all.

Whenever he changes, the fire in his throat is pleasant, warm, but his distaste of it, his refusal to enjoy it, makes it feel like it is choking him, that he is suffocating. Spouting flame gives him a moment of freedom, and he teaches himself to harness that tool, too.

He may not be able to burn another dragon, but he could burn something she values, force her to act to defend something—or someone—other than herself.

He can take this curse they've given him and make himself a more formidable enemy.

They pick their night strategically, one of many when they are sent off on their own. It's supposed to simply be a scouting mission, but Rose has permission to act as she sees fit. It's overcast, full of friendly shadows, and they see the American Dragon herself. She isn't on her guard, laughing and flying loop-de-loops and cheerfully chatting with her abomination of dog, her so-called magical guardian. They are careful to stay downwind of it, well aware that it might smell them and warn her. Whether the two have been out on a mission themselves or whether they were just taking advantage of the dark to train, they have already wrapped up.

Jake and Rose withdraw to the safety of the streets and come up with a quick plan, rigging up the netting and the trap. Rose holds Jake's spear but only gives him a nod as they separate; they can't risk talking, not now. He runs a few blocks before changing, flying forward and then doubling back above the American Dragon. She had gone farther than he'd thought, and for a moment he thought he'd lost her, but then he sees her and knows nothing else matters. This was their chance.

She spots him almost instantly. As they had suspected she would, she follows him, her curiosity too great for her to heed her guardian's advice. Jake ignores her calls as he takes a hard right and leaves the exposed sky of the park behind.

Jake flies faster, grateful for all the practice he's done as he weaves between the buildings, hoping to put as much distance between the American Dragon and her magical guardian as he can. She's faster than he expects and much more nimble in the air, but he knows what's ahead, and she doesn't. At the right spot, he banks sharply to the left and then collapses his wings to his body in a dive to avoid the net. He changes back, hitting the ground harder than he expects, the sphinx hair sapping some of his control along with his energy even from this distance, but he rolls and springs to his feet. He'd trained himself to fight through this fatigue, and the pain of fighting injured is a familiar one. There would be time to tend to something as minor as a pulled muscle or twisted ankle later. Now, they must move or else everything will be lost.

He grabs his spear from Rose and turns back in time to see the dragon hurl herself around the same corner. She's going too fast now to change her direction in time and flies into the sphinx hair net from which Jake was careful to steer clear.

He and Rose don't need to talk. They just need to act. They've discussed this countless times, considering different possibilities and complications, and all they need to do is get her away before the guardian shows up. Before it realizes something is wrong, calls for help, and the other dragons come.

The sphinx hair works fast, and the dragon is too weak to fight. Rose contains the dragon while Jake recovers everything else. Another nod, and Rose goes ahead to their hidden rendezvous point; it will be Jake's job to stop anyone from following. It is the only job he can safely take.

Splitting up is a danger, but the rewards outweigh the risk. Rose has never liked the idea of separating, but Jake insisted, and she could not say anything once they realized how the sphinx hair affects him, too. He would slow her down too much if he tried to come, and he is much more useful ensuring that she gets away safely. It is better this way. Even if the worst happens and he is captured, he would fare better than she. They are both skilled liars, but she is known, he is not, and these powers might save him. They may even allow him to hunt the dragons from within.

The dog rounds the corner now, out of breath but trying to pant the news into its cell phone.

Jake's spear is at the ready, and he lunges.


	2. The Beginning

A/N: **Important**: This chapter jumps back in time, as its title suggests, and may be difficult to read for anyone who has lost a child. It deals with death (fake death, but they don't know that) and grief. If it's too hard for anyone to read, this chapter can be skipped; all it explains is a bit of what Jake's family went through when they lost him and hints at how he came to be with the Huntsclan.

* * *

Susan's first impression of her son is of a howling bundle of healthy pink flesh topped with a shock of black hair. The labour had been long and hard, but it is over now, and she is exhausted but happy because he is here. Wailing. Roaring. Strong, so strong, even when she had feared he might not be.

She is surprised when her baby boy is swaddled and whisked away by hospital staff before she has a chance to get a better look at him, but she thinks perhaps that is the way of things here. Part of her wants to argue, to demand to see him, but they are doctors and nurses, and they know what's best.

Jonathan comes to see her before she is clean, bursting through with a nervous energy and stubbornness to reach his goal. He is asking all the questions she swallowed back, but they are not given answers. They are given deflections. In the end, Jonathan knows no more about all this than she does, and they are left to wait.

When the answers come, she doesn't want them. They are not what she wants to hear. They cannot be true. Her son, her Jake…. She'd heard his cries, and her heart had filled with more love than she'd ever realized it could.

Maybe that is why it is so hard to believe what the nurse is telling them now. The linen-wrapped lump of grey they'd offered her—with comments about _unforeseen circumstances_ and _unfortunate complications_—barely resembles a baby, let alone her Jake. Whatever it is, it is not him. It cannot be him.

Jonathan sits at her side, keeping an arm around her. She does not move, not even to lean into him. She just sits mutely in the bed, unable to comprehend everything the nurse is saying.

It is later—much, much later, when the stink of the hospital and the stink of death has finally left her nostrils—that she allows herself to cry. To scream. To curse her heritage and whatever her dragon blood has done to her half-human child, her baby boy who should have been happy and healthy and alive and _with them_….

She refuses to walk past the room that was to be his nursery.

She leaves the details of the death to Jonathan, to discuss with her father what is best. He knows more than she anyway. She can't help but love her husband, but she had never imagined this. Not when everything had gone so well throughout the entire pregnancy.

She is not surprised, then, when her father finds her walking the streets of Chinatown. It is raining. She likes it that way. It means no one who glances her way and manages to see her will notice her tears.

"My dear daughter," her father says, and she sees that the rain touches him, too. Even though he knows enough magic to deflect it and merely give the appearance of getting wet to those who don't know, who can't see, he is getting soaked. With her. For her. "We must consider the possibility that you will not be able to have healthy children with your chosen husband."

It is a conversation they have had before.

It is a conversation she hates.

It is an argument she had thought she had won.

She lets him talk even though she doesn't believe him—_can't_ believe him, _won't_, even as the same treacherous thoughts flit through her mind—because she knows he is searching for an explanation they will never get, just as she is, and that this explanation is, to him, the most likely.

He had warned her.

She had not listened.

She does not want to listen now, but she does.

She has not told her husband the family secret, but what if this is her fault? What if her father is right? What if they can't have children because of what she is?

They'll adopt, she decides. She has cousins. Someone _else_ can take up the mantle of the American Dragon once her father lays it down. A direct line isn't always the strongest, anyway; she is proof of that.

It would mean keeping this secret from even more of her family, but perhaps that is for the best.

It is a bitter secret when it holds truths like this.

She knows, in time, that this ache will become normal for her. Not faded, but part of her. She cannot imagine that now. She cannot imagine adapting to this grief, this guilt, on top of everything else, of learning to live anew.

But she has survived this much, and she will no doubt find it necessary to survive more.

She had been raised as if she would one day be the American Dragon, for even once they knew her powers simply wouldn't develop late, they had believed she would raise the next one. She has always known the responsibilities that came with the title. She has always known that her children would be expected to shoulder that responsibility and that she should be there to help them through it.

She cannot shirk from this forever, not when Jonathan needs her.

Not when they need each other, now more than ever.

The future will hold whatever it holds. She will not ask the Oracles if they had foreseen this or anything after it; she knows the trickery of prophecy, however unintentional, and she does not wish to run headlong into something she is trying desperately to avoid. It would be far better to climb from this pit one inch at a time, one moment, one hour, one day.

If magic is not meant to be a greater part of her life than it already is, then it won't be.

If the next child she holds in her arms and calls her own isn't hers by blood, it won't make them all less of a family, and it won't make the dear child any less loved.

She'd be able to love again when the time came, despite this hole in her heart. She is sure of that. Her love for the rest of her family might not mask the ache she feels for her lost son, but she doesn't expect that. Wouldn't expect that. She knows how much her heart had swelled at the sight of her first child; she has no doubt it will react just as strongly to that of her second, when they are ready for a second.

"Let us go home," her father urges, and she nods and allows him to lead her back to more familiar roads.

Home might not hold answers, but it holds family, and that must be enough for now.


	3. Where There's Smoke

Jake doesn't think anyone else noticed the tiny spout of flame (and accompanying smoke) that appeared when he sneezed earlier, but then he notices Rose (no, she now has the honour of being called _Huntsgirl_) staring at him whenever he looks in her direction. They are friends, best friends, have been for as long as he can remember, but he knows they won't be anymore. They can't be.

The honour of being Huntsgirl isn't given lightly, and none of the other girls had dared grumble at the choice of the Huntsclan elders. (Not that it would be safe to do so anyway—everyone knows the hidden cameras and microphones are monitored, though how well depends on who is on shift—but that has not stopped anyone in the past.) They all know that Rose is worthy of the title. She's the best of them all. Far better than him.

And now far more dangerous to him, and not just in the usual ways.

Rose had been with him on his last recon mission, and she'd been on enough before that to know how he works. She knows his skills almost better than he does. When they work together, they barely need to speak; they simply know what the other is thinking, what the other is planning, and act accordingly. She knows his limitations, his weaknesses. She'd used them against him in their last sparring match, landing him flat on his back in an embarrassingly short time.

And she'd witnessed the apparent improvement in his (already impeccable) vision and hearing that had been written off by everyone else. The Huntsleader for that mission had chalked it up unique conditions within the environment, but their instructors only know them by their numbers, by the statistics linked to those numbers on a sheet of paper, and they know statistics can be skewed.

But Rose is different. Rose knows better than to ignore the signs. And she knows he's been trying to avoid her, to avoid _this_, and he hopes she doesn't know anything else. He hopes she's come up with some wrong conclusion, something that would save him. Something that he could use _to_ save him, for the time when the others inevitably notice, too.

She catches him after class and drags him to their secret alcove deep in the bowels of the facility, the one place where they had managed to disable the microphones without anyone in command noticing.

The one place it is safe.

Rose nods whenever they pass someone, official or otherwise, and manages to make their actions look innocuous instead of important. It rather looks like she is taking him somewhere to scold him. There is anger in the way she holds herself, plain for others to see.

Perhaps because of Rose's new authority, they are not stopped, even though it is expected that they go to the training rooms with everyone else, and that any petty disputes between them be resolved in the usual way: mock battle.

When they are safely huddled away, Rose reaches up her right hand—the one bearing her birthmark—to trace the Mark of the Huntsclan that snakes around his eye and down towards his ear. Her touch is warm, but he shivers. They are too close. She is too close. There are too many ways this could go wrong—

"You know the signs as well as I do, Jake," she finally whispers.

He does.

He wishes he didn't.

He might be able to deny it then.

But looking at Rose, he sees fear in her wide blue eyes. Not fear _of_ him but fear _for_ him, and he doesn't understand it.

She is Huntsgirl.

Of all the initiates and acolytes within the Huntsclan, she is favoured because of her skills and her ruthlessness. She hates dragons as fiercely as the rest of them, but she can slay them more efficiently, more _effortlessly_.

And he is a dragon.

Somehow.

Impossibly.

He stopped trying to deny it two weeks ago when he'd woken with a clawed foot instead of his right hand. Everything before that—weird cravings, bad breath, flaking skin, growing pains, running hot…. He could explain away everything before that. He hasn't been able to explain away the shining red scales or sharp, deadly claws, not even to himself, or how he managed to melt the tape with its damning evidence on his next errand to security. He certainly hasn't figured out how he's going to hide the dragon feet when they return.

He knows they will return.

He knows the question is _when_, not _if_.

Rose knows it, too, even without seeing it.

_Where there's smoke, there's fire._

He can't hide from the entire Huntsclan, but he can't just leave, either.

This is his home. They are his family. And he doesn't want this any more than they would, were they to find out about it.

"It's not what it seems," Jake tries, but Rose is shaking her head and shushing him.

"It's exactly what it seems," she counters. "It can't be anything else. All the signs are there."

Denials would fall on deaf ears, and he has never been good at lying to her.

"What are you going to do?" he asks, for it's the only thing he can ask. The only thing that matters.

Rose's lips press into a thin line before she answers, "The only thing I can do."


	4. Hidden Fire

After Rose figures it out, it gets easier. She helps cover for him. Jake no longer has to worry about destroying every piece of security footage that might show something suspect without drawing attention to himself or the disappearance of said footage. Rose has the clearance to review the tapes whenever she wishes. She can look for the evidence he fears might be there and confirm its presence or absence before the pattern of accidents becomes apparent. She also uses her granted authority as an excuse to 'take him under her wing'. The Huntsclan elders are aware of how well they get along. They are undoubtedly aware of their budding relationship. But because they work so well together, because they get results, it is allowed instead of forbidden. Their partnership benefits their work; it is not a detriment.

He and Rose are both aware that a hard choice might come, that they will have to choose the Huntsclan before each other.

Until Jake realized what was happening to him, he had always thought they would make the right choice.

Now, he knows they won't.

They can't.

They have already put his secret above the Huntsclan, put his life above the rest. Not because they fear that this _thing_ within him will change him, that its deadly nature will overcome his nurture, but because they don't know why it is within him in the first place. They don't know what this is. And it is too dangerous to ask anyone about it. The others will not take the time to understand; they will simply react.

He and Rose both know how it would end.

If he is revealed, he will be slain.

Quite likely, because of their relationship, Rose will be the one expected to do it.

If she so much as hesitates, she would be replaced by countless others, and that would be so much worse. Others would want to see him suffer. Others would think this curse his fault. Others would not be as kind as Rose, and if he fought them, it would simply be seen as proof that he is what they thought him to be.

Rose could make the end quick and painless, but hated as this truth is, Jake isn't ready to give up. If it comes to it, he can't promise he won't fight. Won't try to survive. Rose knows this. She's prepared for it.

They both know she is more skilled than he is, that she isn't Huntsgirl for nothing.

They practice the usual manoeuvres on the sanctioned training grounds, honing old skills and learning new techniques. It is only when they are away from prying eyes that they can practice everything else, that they can learn about this curse, these powers. It is only then that he can learn to control the change. Learn to fly. To flame. To become the beast he has sworn to slay.

They have read every book in the Huntslibrary about dragons, scoured every piece of lore and memorized every account. The words pale in comparison to the insight they now gain. Some of the dragon myth is just plain wrong, but most of the lore is dreadfully accurate, _painfully_ accurate, and some of the unknowns are becoming clearer.

The shift between human and dragon, for instance, is not instantaneous, and there is the barest second of blindness as the change adjusts his vision. It is too small a time for him to notice, but Rose discovered it. She is finding as many things about him and this dragon form as he is.

Jake refuses to think of his human form as a mask—it is the dragon within that is the falsehood, whatever the true source of the vile creation—but he cannot deny the improvement of his senses, their increased acuity and range.

It makes him sick.

He doesn't want to enjoy any part of this. He doesn't _want_ the scales on his skin to feel natural. He doesn't _want_ to feel so proud that he has finally learned to keep a sustained flame. He doesn't _want_ to relish the feeling of the wind under his wings or the way the world seems so much more _vivid_ when he looks through it with dragon eyes. He needs to focus on how he can use it, not how much he likes it and how much duller the world will be when he's fixed. He must keep searching for ways to use this all against them, to suppress the stomach-turning horror of what he has become and the mere thought that he might, just for a moment, forget that it's a curse and not a boon.

His only consolation is that Rose doesn't look at him differently; she never has, even when she first found out, even when she had every reason to hate what he has become. She should have reported him. She should have slain him herself. But she didn't. She won't. She believes there is a reason for this, that they can find it.

But however much they have learned, however much they have discovered, they don't know enough. They can't determine the truth, the reason, and however many ideas they have, they get no closer to the answers they need.

Worse still, they find nothing that suggests they can reverse this…this curse. There is magic known to mask it, to hide it beneath human flesh more deeply than usual, but the intricacies of that magic aren't known to them. They aren't written where those who would use it against the dragons could discover it.

He carries a few strands of sphinx hair with him for two days straight, but when he passes out on the third day, Rose forbids him from trying that again.

Instead, she suggests they capture the American Dragon to get more information. The dragon is young, still in training, but there are reports of her going out on her own or only with her magical guardian. The task would be far from impossible, and he isn't opposed.

After all, once they have what they need, they can slay her and return to the Huntsclan to be hailed as heroes.

And, perhaps, he can finally get a cure that would douse this hidden fire within him forever.


	5. Another Dragon

Gramps can't make it out for tonight's training session, but Haley doesn't mind. She has fun training with Fu by herself, even though she appreciates the older dragon's guidance. Fu doesn't reprimand her few mistakes quite so quickly, and he promises to teach her how to play poker (even though she knows he's not the best player) and speak various dialects of Dog (though she's not sure she can trust his memory with that) and things like that when she gets it right.

He usually promises to reward lessons learned well with more teaching, even if it's not the sort of things Gramps would approve of her learning, and she loves it.

Gramps does the same thing, of course, with things he _does_ want her to learn, but it isn't as much fun, mostly because much of the training involves chores that don't seem like proper dragon training until much later.

Tonight was simply running through various aerodynamics exercises and seeing how accurately she could flame under pressure. Despite running on fumes at the end, Haley is happy. She's tired but not too exhausted to practice tricks—_evasive manoeuvres_—while they head back. It's dark enough that they'd hear (or smell) someone coming long before anyone would see her, so she'd have plenty of time to change back before anyone spotted them, and then she'd just be a sweet little girl walking her dog.

Some people might question the fact that she is a sweet little girl walking her dog so late at night, but she's found that many people forget logical things like that when she acts as cute as she can, and she can act _very_ cute.

And then she hears something.

Wing beats.

_Large_ wing beats.

"Is that—?" She doesn't finish her sentence. She doesn't need to. She knows Fu can see it as well as she can: another dragon, momentarily silhouetted against the background of lights.

She doesn't recognize the shadow. It's not Gramps—he would never be so careless; she doesn't need the fact that this dragon has wings to rule out her grandfather—and she hadn't been aware that she had any cousins visiting, but….

The dragon comes closer, gliding and beating, but it's not quite…right.

Even she knows they're wasting a lot of energy. She isn't flying very high, but she can still feel the wind. She can feel the air currents, the updrafts. The updrafts they aren't using to carry them, instead flapping more often than they'd need to, if they were doing it properly.

A young dragon, then.

Probably a boy.

Boys don't mature as quickly as girls.

And they don't learn as quickly, either, at least in her (admittedly limited) experience.

Whoever this dragon is, he's close enough that she can just make out a dull hide of red and green scales. He looks a bit sickly, like he's not taking care of himself, but he must have a lot of brute strength because he's closing the distance between them quickly.

She can't tell if he's spotted her or not.

She wouldn't be hard to spot if he looked, but she isn't sure he's looked.

"Do I have some family I don't know about or something, Fu?" jokes Haley, but she doesn't do more than spare him a glance. She doesn't have time to wait for an answer from Fu if she wants some _real_ answers from this dragon. She shoots past her magical guardian in pursuit of the dragon as he streaks across the sky above them.

Dragons aren't exactly commonplace in the NYC, but the Huntsclan has a lively operation here, and it is her duty as the American Dragon to warn this newcomer what trouble awaits him if he isn't careful.

And, well, she doesn't really think he's family—she's pretty sure none of her cousins would drop by without saying something, and she doesn't recognize him from the last family reunion—which makes it even more important that she catch up to him.

He might not know the area, might be lost and not just careless, and she can't afford anyone else—even they _aren't_ part of the Huntsclan—finding out that the magical world exists.

The dragon vanishes around a blind corner, and she banks sharply to follow—only to fly straight into a net manned by two members of the Huntsclan (one the infamous Huntsgirl herself!). She lets out a shriek even as the net—_sphinx hair_—begins to sap her strength, to stop her from fighting back. If she fights too much, she won't have the strength to stay as a dragon, and then they'll find out who she is.

She can't let them do that.

She can't bring herself to stop struggling altogether, not with sharpened spears pointed in her direction, but she tries.

It's easier once she realizes there's no sign of the other dragon at all.

She doesn't understand that.

He should still be here. She knew he'd taken this turn, and unless he'd managed to avoid the net and other members of the Huntsclan are still pursuing him and these two were simply left behind….

But that doesn't make sense. The Huntsclan couldn't have known to set a trap for dragons here. They wouldn't have known they'd find any dragons tonight.

Or, at least, they shouldn't have known.

She knows Fu is too far away to hear her. If she calls out now, they might not wait to kill her. She'd be easy enough to slay in a net. She's not even entirely sure why they're waiting. Some prize, no doubt. For glory or ceremony or whatever the Huntsclan values.

So, instead, she sits there, shivering, straining to hear what the two Huntsclan members talk about in low voices.

She's so rattled that she can't make out what they're saying.

She can't shake the scent of the other dragon, either.

Or the horrifying feeling that that dragon might be _their_ dragon. That he might be _working _with them, against his own kind.

She doesn't want to think it. She can't fathom why any dragon would do that. But she doesn't understand the existence of the Huntsclan, either. Dragons aren't really like the stories. They don't hoard gold or kidnap and eat people. Aside from their magic, aside from their responsibilities, they aren't terribly different from ordinary humans.

She supposes the bad dragons are worse, but hardly more so than the Huntsclan elders themselves.

_Or Huntsgirl and her new protégé._

Huntsgirl doesn't say anything as she walks over to Haley and hefts the net over her shoulder. Haley tries not to cry out as the sphinx hair cuts into her, burning into her scales, but she can't stop the whimpers from escaping.

She sees the other Huntsclan member packing away the rest of the traps, his spear always within reach.

She knows Fu will come.

She knows he will try to use it against Fu.

She hopes Fu can win.

She hopes this isn't the last she'll see of him. Of any of her family. Of anyone _besides_ the Huntsclan.

Her tears sting the wounds left in her hide by the high concentration of the sphinx hair, but she can't stop crying.


	6. True Nature

Rose never turns her back on the dragon. She knows better.

But she also knows Jake should have been here by now, even taking the alternate route and accounting for numerous delays.

She paces. It keeps her warm and gives her something to do. She has the supplies to build a fire in her pack, but she won't risk lighting one, and she can't call for backup. She'd rather deal with the bone-chilling cold than risk drawing unwanted attention.

She and the American Dragon cannot be found until Jake has the information he needs.

If anyone else in the Huntsclan realizes they've captured the American Dragon, they'll be expected to slay her. They'd lose their only bargaining chip. And the dragons would never help Jake, never free him of his curse.

And if the Huntsclan found out they had the American Dragon and let her go, the consequences would be horrific. They had ways of forcing the truth from people. They'd want to know _exactly_ why they allowed the American Dragon to go free, and a word of truth to them would condemn Jake forever. They wouldn't both be able to lie, to withstand the tortures that would await them.

It would be worse for her to begin with. She's climbed so high; she has so much farther to fall. This would destroy her, destroy her legacy as Huntsgirl. It would be easy enough to make them believe Jake was merely following her orders. She has the authority, and he is her friend. But she could not keep the truth of why she's doing what she's doing forever.

It wouldn't take much, after all.

A half-mumbled, practically incoherent sentence.

Anything that would give them reason to look closer. At Jake, at her, at everything they've done. Their research, the security logs, mission logs, training statistics…. Once they looked, they'd find out the truth, or at least enough of it to guess the truth.

They would kill Jake. They wouldn't want to risk keeping him alive. He's too dangerous, even without training like the American Dragon receives. Besides, they wouldn't need him alive, not unless they wanted to study a living specimen, and that would be a far worse fate. It would still end with death, she was sure, but it would be far slower and far more painful.

They would just imprison her. She would have no chance at redemption. Not that she'd want it. Not after what they would have done to Jake. Living out a life imprisoned by the Huntsclan, never again seeing the outside world, would be better than she'd deserved if her plan got her best friend killed.

They'd use her to find out everything she's learned about dragons from this experience. From Jake. From their secret training sessions. They'd supplement their records.

And Jake would be gone.

She can't let this end that way, can't let this mission fail, but Jake isn't coming.

She knows he isn't.

But she won't admit it. It's better to wait. To try to convince herself that he's just been delayed.

The hours crawl. Rose can't hide the desperation in her vigil. She knows something must have gone wrong. Jake would have found some way to contact her if he'd had the opportunity. Even the dragon, weak though she is, notices her increased pacing, the fervent glances at the sliver of sky that can be seen from their position, half-hidden within the cliffs.

They should have never split up. She should have insisted he come, that she could keep the dragon and the dangerous sphinx hair far enough ahead so it wouldn't affect him. All he would have needed to do was keep her in sight.

It's too late now.

"Your partner isn't coming," the dragon says weakly. She sits there, shivering, huddled into herself but unable to draw away from the sphinx hair woven into the net. The dampness of the cave, their hiding spot, makes the chill worse for her. She'd feel it more keenly in her dragon form since she's a fire-breather. That's Rose's only consolation right now; she won't be able to recover the strength to burn through the sphinx hair net. "If you let me go, you won't have to worry about him anymore."

Rose tightens her grip on her spear. "We all know the risks. Your hide is worth more than his." It's a lie to her, but it's not a lie to the rest of the Huntsclan, so it's easy to pass off as truth.

The dragon sneezes. A tiny curl of smoke leaves her nostrils, and she coughs. "I don't want to die," she says plaintively.

"You're an abomination," snaps Rose. The words are automatic. They're harder to believe now, with Jake being…. With Jake being what he is. And her trying to convince him he _isn't_ an abomination because of it. But she's Huntsgirl; she cannot afford any weakness, especially not in front of the dragon.

"I'm just a girl. Like you."

Rose spins, drawing her spear closer to the dragon. The dragon flinches back from its polished tip, but both of them can see her perverse reflection. "Your scales say otherwise," Rose snarls.

The dragon's shivers become more violent, and she says nothing. Rose tilts her head, watching. The shaking isn't just shivering, it's— "You're fighting to keep your form."

The dragon ducks her head, but she can't make herself any smaller.

Rose stands back, watching as fire flares and eats away at the dragon form without burning the net. The human mask the dragon wears is tinier than she'd expected, even considering the dragon's small size. She looks like a child, a young girl, hardly more than half of Rose's own age. It's…disquieting.

Dragons are shapeshifters. Their dragon form, their human mask— Rose knows that isn't all they have. Whether it's their innate magic or with the help of some brewed potion, she knows they can take many other forms. She's read the reports that prove it, that have borne witness to it time and time again. She might have dismissed one, possibly even two, with Jake showing no inkling of such a skill, but not dozens.

This still might not be the dragon's true form.

She might be searching for sympathy, might think this is the best way to get it.

She might believe looking young, helpless, lost will break through Rose's exterior, will soften her heart.

The dragon has buried her head in human knees, arms tightly wrapped around them, and all Rose can see is the same pigtailed black hair as before.

It could still be a trick.

"I don't want to die," the dragon whispers again, and this time her voice cracks, and she begins to cry. "Why do I have to die because of who I am?"

Rose's grip on her spear is white-knuckled now, and she has to consciously take deep breaths so she doesn't shake. "It's not because of who you are," she says evenly, "but because of what you are."

She takes up watch by the hidden entrance again, grateful the dragon's wails are lost in the sound of crashing surf, and waits for some sign of Jake.

She doesn't know if the salt she tastes is from the sea.


	7. Shadowed Scales

This time, things go wrong. The American Dragon's mentor takes him hostage. Puts _him_ in a cage. Jake has no way of contacting Rose; they'd known this was a risk and had agreed not to carry any sort of communication device. He knows where she is, where she's taken the American Dragon, and that's what they want. They want her back. He has no intention of giving it up, giving _them_ up, and with them, his only hope of getting information.

He also has no intention of letting them know what he knows. Of letting them realize what he is. If they are somehow responsible for his condition, this horrible transformation he can do, he's going to wait for them to slip up. He's not going to give them any inkling that he's the one who's been cursed in case they don't already know.

He doesn't think they do. He and Rose had picked their ambush point strategically, far away from known hotspots of magical activity, and Rose had blacked out the relevant cameras. They hadn't seen him transform. _No one_ should have seen him transform.

And, despite his brief exposure to sphinx hair, he'd put up a good fight.

He hadn't given them any reason to suspect that he'd been fighting compromised.

They'd managed to drug him in the end. While he'd been busy fighting off the older dragon, the mongrel had found something in his rolls of fur and fat. He'd thrown it, and the glass vial had shattered on impact. While the elder dragon had flown high, Jake had been caught up in the fumes.

He never saw where they took him. He doesn't remember anything between the choking purple smoke and opening his eyes to the bars of a cage. He's crammed into some back room, that's easy enough to see, but he doesn't know _where_. Too cramped to be a warehouse, to narrow to be a typical storage room, at least the sort he's used to, and they wouldn't be foolish enough to take him into someone's home. It might be a shop, though he hasn't heard the distinctive ding or chimes of a bell above a door.

Wherever it is, it's musty. The taste of stale magic sits at the back of his tongue, reminding him of the experimental classroom where they brew up concoctions to use against dragons. He can't see anything distinct, anything that would hint at his location, but the shelves are full of magical artefacts he might be able to sneak back and steal if he can figure out a way out of here.

The bars of his cage are electrified. Not strongly, but enough that he can hear a steady, telltale hum; he suspects it wouldn't hurt dragon hide, but he's not willing to try it. Even if they aren't in the room with him, he's sure there are cameras or some sort of magic spell that lets them know what he's doing. Whatever he does gives them more information about the Huntsclan, information it's too dangerous for them to have.

He doesn't know how long he sits in silence, memorizing the layout of the room and its contents. He doesn't recognize half the golden titles on the spines of the largest books, and he's sure most of the innocuous-looking objects are far from it. He isn't sure how he can get this information to the Huntsclan in the end—he has no desire to explain what he was doing when he was captured if he can avoid it; even Rose's experience hasn't been enough to grant her a solo mission like this, let alone one with him as her only aid—or if he'll even survive to give it, but it's the only upside he can see. The more he learns about his enemy, the better.

He doesn't expect the woman to walk into the room, coming from the door at the far end of the room rather than through the hanging beads. He's heard whispered conversations beyond, nothing he could make out without using the dragon's ear, and even with his mask still in place, he didn't dare risk it. He assumes they called her, that she came from elsewhere rather than around from the front, but they could just be trying to throw him off. Whatever the truth of it, he didn't get more than a glimpse of dull brick and a brief rush of distant traffic noise on damp air before the door shut behind her. He still doesn't know where he is.

She's their representative, he figures. Not a dragon—that would be far too foolish of them, allowing him to see one of them in their human mask—but someone who's associated with them. Dangerous, to be sure, but not a fatal position. He has no reason to kill someone who isn't a magical creature in disguise and far more reason to try to turn the tables on them, to capture her and attempt to get information in return.

He's in no such position to do that now, though, and he knows it. As they do.

"You could tell me your name," the woman says mildly. "I don't wish to call you by a number."

He wonders who she is, how she found out the dragons' secrets or what she could have done to make them trust her. She looks frustratingly _average_, a middle-aged East Asian woman he could pass on the street without blinking an eye. Forgettable. Maybe that is her most redeeming quality.

Jake sneers at her, though she can't see his true expression beneath his mask. He thinks that foolish of them, too, not trying to unmask him, but perhaps they believe it a gesture of trust. As if he could trust a dragon or anyone associated with one.

He keeps his silence. The woman keeps talking. Says he can call her Susan. Careful questions, trying to get him to talk, to see what he knows about the new dragon, to get him to give up Rose or the location of the American Dragon or the Huntsclan headquarters themselves. Quietly, idly, mildly probing, no demands. Little pauses to see if he'll volunteer information, tiny digs to see if she can get a rise out of him, to get him to speak without thinking. As if he'd admit anything to her. He has training to endure torture. This? This is nothing. It is easy to stay silent. To stare and never react.

They haven't even tried to give him a truth serum.

He knows they must have one.

The Huntsclan does.

Are they really foolish enough to believe they can break him without it?

Time passes, maybe hours, before she switches topics. Begins talking about herself. Not much, not enough for him to find her, not with such vague details, but—

There's a waver in her voice he can't quite understand.

A determination she can't hide.

A hope.

He begins to suspect this isn't only an interrogation, that it's not just about the captured American Dragon or the trap they'd set.

"At least…." There's a hitch in her voice. "I don't know how you got him on your side, but please, if you are working with this dragon— Please tell me he isn't your prisoner. Please tell me you're treating him well."

Jake knows he shouldn't reply, knows he shouldn't give in, but the word is out of his mouth before he can stop it. "He?"

She shouldn't know anything about him. As a dragon, he'd never spoken where they could have heard him. The American Dragon's guardian wouldn't have caught more than a fleeting glimpse of him, and everything he has read says that colouration has nothing to do with gender.

"He," she repeats, volunteering no more information even though he lets the silence stretch.

This may be the proof of the ploy that he's been looking for. Perhaps the curse had been targeted after all? Or perhaps they'd managed to observe the initiates from a distance when they'd set the curse or the potion or whatever had caused this and had managed to deduce his gender from his form? Practices aren't always segregated, but most of the girls simply tie their hair back instead of tucking it away. Assuming the dragon is male is not unexpected if that's the case.

But she'd spoken with such certainty….

He speaks carefully now, making sure to choose words that neither confirm nor deny her allegations. He needs to keep her in the dark as much as he can. "Why care about a foreign dragon?"

"I suspect," she whispers, "that he isn't a foreign dragon at all." There are tears in her eyes now, glistening but not falling. He's afraid she'll stop again, but she continues. "I think…. I think know who he is. Who his mother is. The family he was stolen from. That's what the Huntsclan does, you know. Those who are not recruited are stolen at birth and raised into the life. If they realized what he was, perhaps they believed they could raise a weapon, and maybe that's why he wasn't simply killed before his powers developed. They are cruel enough for it."

Jake stares at her. She has to be lying. It can't be true. The Huntsclan wouldn't—!

But she wouldn't know that the Huntsclan was the only family he had ever known, that he hadn't been recruited later. He touches the latch on his mask, knowing how tricky his is to take off and secure again—it has been giving him trouble for months and he simply hasn't found the time to fix it—and assures himself once again that they never saw his face. His mark.

He has always known that, despite both bearing Marks of the Huntsclan, despite being raised together, he is not remotely related to Rose.

He has always known that, aside from a few others older and younger than him, none of the other initiates bear the Mark.

And he has always known that the Huntsnursery is much larger than it needs to be, given the low number of babies who have occupied it in the past.

The truth of that has never bothered him until now.

They have no other families. They have always known that. He and Rose had never played the game they'd caught the youngest Mark-bearer at once, trying to pick his parents out of those who had or still served in the ranks of the Huntsclan. They know their parents don't—didn't—number among the elders.

The truth is simple, if hard to hear at a young age. The families of Mark-bearers who hadn't been killed by the dragons or their ilk had rejected them, cast them out, for fear that they were the ones who had caused the travesty. They were feared for bearing their Mark. They were unwanted. The Huntsclan had saved them. As far as he had ever been concerned, the Huntsclan was their only family.

But what she is saying….

_Stolen at birth_.

He wants to make the accusation, to let her know that he doesn't believe her lies, but the words seize in his throat.

_Killed before his powers developed._

He understands now why she had been chosen to talk to him.

She doesn't even know that he bears the Mark, though perhaps she suspects it based on what she thinks was his mission. She is merely trying to dig at his defences, find chinks in his armour that shouldn't exist. She wields her words with deadly ease, cutting deep. Her show of vulnerability was nothing more than that: a show. And her earlier friendliness was more than to just prod at his defenses; she had been trying to lull him, to catch him off his guard.

She doesn't even know he is the one with these powers; she thinks he's just acquainted with the one who is and is trying to win sympathy for her side. Her claims must be wild ones. He had not been _born_ with these powers. They are not a part of him, written into his DNA. He is _not_ an abomination, a monster. He isn't one of _them_. The Huntsclan never _stole_ him; they _saved_ him—from the dragons or, if not, a living family that didn't even want him.

But the Huntsclan doesn't know he has these powers. They haven't approached him, spoken to him about how he might use these very powers against their enemies, against the dragons. He and Rose have done so much research, but no one has questioned it. No one has wondered why. They are merely being diligent students. That is expected of Huntsgirl. And they all know he is her friend, as much as any of them have friends.

Would they have killed him, if they'd known?

He still fears as much now.

But if it's not a curse, if it's a birthright, how can he ever be accepted among them?

He must be. He is Marked. He was born to slay dragons; he _cannot_ have been born one.

Her silvered tongue speaks words of honey tainted with poison.

They are trying to destroy his resolve by introducing doubt, an attack that won't end even when she leaves—and as much as he wants to refute her words, he can't help but wonder if there's any truth in them.

He thought he could defend against her words.

He was wrong.

Her poison has taken, the treacherous thought flitting across his mind even as he fights to silence it.

_What if she's right?_

* * *

A/N: I don't have a planned scene for how this situation gets resolved—the next scene I wrote on tumblr takes place afterwards, since the in-between part wasn't covered with the titles I was given that prompted this story in the first place—so my question to you is: does anyone want me to write how this gets sorted out or would you rather I skipped ahead to the next planned bit?


	8. Spinning Needle

"She's not in mortal danger," Marty says, and Susan can't understand it.

The Huntsclan has her daughter. They know she's the American Dragon. How can she _not_ be in mortal danger?

Fu thinks the same. He takes the compass from Marty and begins looking it over. Poking at it. Wondering aloud if it's broken.

Susan expects a joke, but it doesn't come. Fu and Marty both know how serious this situation is. Just because Haley isn't in mortal danger at this precise moment, that doesn't mean her situation can't change.

Susan's years of training didn't prepare her for this. _Couldn't_ prepare her for this.

She doesn't want to lose another child.

She doesn't know what she can possibly tell Jonathan if she does. If they do.

_My family secret got our daughter killed._

She doesn't want to think it.

She can't rid her mind of the possibility. Of the fear. Whispering. Taunting. Jeering.

_This is your fault._

She should have done more to protect Haley. Somehow. Insisted that she not be made the American Dragon yet, that she's not old enough, that she finish school first, that she be allowed to decide if she wants the responsibility.

The danger.

Haley would accept. Susan can't imagine her turning it down, even if she knew this could happen. She thinks too much of herself, of her abilities, her skills, even though she is still learning. She never imagines that she can't ultimately prevail. And she wants too much to help, to do the best she can, for everyone.

That's why, as far as Susan can tell, she has never insisted that they tell her father the family secret.

Because she's accepted what Susan has said, what her grandfather has said, what Fu has said. That it is best if he doesn't know. Safer for him and for all of them. He'll never be targeted for information if their enemies know he can't give it.

And if anyone is foolish enough to try to take him for leverage, well, then they'll see just how much he can fight without realizing exactly what he's fighting.

But this, with Haley, with the Huntsclan…. This is different. These are people, just like him, who firmly believe what they have been taught. They believe dragons should all be slain. They _celebrate _it.

And yet….

And yet, Haley is not in dire peril.

And they cannot find her until she is.

Susan glances at the back room of the shop. An enchantment allows them to talk freely out front without being overheard, but it surely must be wearing thin by now. They'll need to renew it soon.

"I'll talk to him," she decides.

The others don't stop her. Their conversation—rehashing rejected possibilities to see if they'd missed anything, mostly—is muffled once she's out the front door, and when she enters through the back, she can't hear it all. The member of the Huntsclan they've captured, 99 by the patch on his sleeve, is alert when she comes in. She has no doubt that he's memorized as much of everything as he can, as far as he can see.

She wonders if Fu—and, more importantly, her father—will agree to let him retain his memories, now that he's seen her. She isn't sure if the Huntsclan has concocted an antidote to the potion—unlikely, given the number of times they would know they'd encountered Fu's favourite memory blanking one—but she isn't about to put it past them. She knows as well as any of them that they are trying every possible method to slay every last dragon.

She just never expected the possibility that a dragon would willingly work with them, knowing what they are, or what leverage they could hold over one that he would subject someone so young to such a fate—and the American Dragon, no less. It would not be the first time a National Dragon had perished young, and it certainly wouldn't be the first time one would be lost, but….

But this was Haley.

This was her little girl.

99 doesn't want to talk, but Susan is more than willing to fill the silence between them, trying to wear him down, to get him to slip up. They just need something, a start, anything that might hint at Haley's location—or the dragon's identity.

She doesn't know if she should hope.

She tells herself it's silly. That it's not a possibility. The Huntsclan has connections across the globe. They are powerful. They could easily bring in a foreign dragon if they wanted to. Fu hadn't heard this one speak, and for all they know, the poor dragon himself was tricked. He might not have known what he was doing when he agreed to do this, even if he should have known it would have been nothing good.

But it might not have been a deliberate act against her family, at least not on the dragon's part.

99 doesn't break his silence until she brings up the dragon, and she wishes she could read his facial expressions. She wishes they had dared to touch his mask. But they can't give him any more clues about who they are than they already have. Her involvement, undisguised as it is, is risk enough. They cannot take too many more without paying too high a price.

She knows he is off balance, that her words have finally gotten through to him. She is afraid of pushing too hard, but not as afraid as she is of not pushing hard enough. "The American Dragon has a family, too," she whispers. He bristles now, collecting himself before becoming still and silent. "Would you condemn her to death, and her family to grief? The same grief that so many families of your fellow Huntsmates must have felt?"

She sees something in his eyes, but she cannot say what it is, and then it is gone, and his eyes are ice again.

She knows it is not simply surprise that she knows the correct terminology for him and his fellow initiates.

She gathers herself, knowing she might have already lost whatever advantage she had gained earlier. She has been at this too long. She should have left earlier.

"We only ask that she be returned to us, alive and well. We would be happy to arrange for an exchange, if that is what is decided." She doesn't think it can be as simple as that. The Huntsclan would never just let the American Dragon out of their grasp, particularly for a mere initiate.

But Marty had said she wasn't in mortal peril, at least not yet, and Susan will cling to every bit of hope that she can.

She stands, waiting to see if there is any acknowledgement from 99, but there isn't. She turns. She is nearly at the door when he says, "Information."

It is the most he has volunteered in hours.

He says nothing more, but she knows what he wants. She just isn't sure if it is something they can give. False information would risk Haley's life, but if they wrapped it in truths, perhaps, perhaps it would be enough.

When she comes back in the front of door of the shop, the conversation dies away, and the others look at her. She looks at Marty, and he shakes his head. He holds up his compass, and the needle spins freely, just as it was before.

Haley is still safe.

They still have no way of finding her.

"They want information," she says, and she sees the look that crosses her father's face. He knows, even better than she, what that means.

_Information_ will put everyone at risk—Haley, themselves, and everyone and everything she is meant to protect—and gives them no guarantee that there will not be an attempt to repeat what has happened, the next time more such information is required. Even if the Huntsclan honours their part of the deal—and that is a terribly risky thing to presume in and of itself—and the exchange is pulled off successfully, it does not mean Haley would approve of what they sacrificed for her.

But if Fu or Marty or anyone else had come up with a way to track her, they would have said something by now, even if it were a long shot.

"I will go searching again," her father says, and she can't bring herself to protest that he should be resting at his age, not risking his life. She cannot go and hope to be half as useful as he will be. "We will find her without bending to their demands."

He sounds so certain, but she knows how good he is at putting on a mask.

She checks her watch.

It will be dawn in three hours.

Jonathan might have already noticed her absence. She had been too panicked to think to leave a note. What would he think if he'd woken and realized that she was gone? That Haley was gone?

She doesn't know what she can tell him.

She doesn't think she can lie to ease his mind, hoping they'll find a way to get Haley back safely when there is no guarantee of that.

But she doesn't know how he would take the truth, coming like it would.

"I need to go home," she says. "I need to talk to Jonathan. I'll come back when I can."

She ignores their protests, their cautions.

Her daughter is in danger, more danger than she's ever been in before, and it is a disservice to Jonathan to leave him ignorant of this. She must tell him _something_, if not everything. He is strong. He deserves to know.

She hopes she isn't making a mistake.


	9. Trickling Time

It is getting harder to hide her desperation. Rose can admit now that Jake isn't coming, if only to herself.

She must make a choice.

She could return to the Huntsclan alone. Her report would focus on her failures, on how she lost Jake and gained nothing for it. She would be stripped of her title of Huntsgirl. The elders would believe she was given it too soon, that she wasn't ready, that is undeserving. Her judgement would be questioned for years, every action and answer scrutinized. If Jake manages to survive and return, her association with him would only bring him down. For his own safety, they would have to cut ties.

If she brought the American Dragon with her as proof of their success, she would keep her title. Jake's loss would not be held against her if she returned with such a prize. She could slay the dragon now, sparing her suffering, or she could bring the dragon back alive and slay her in the arena. She knows which would be expected, but despite her accomplishments, she is young enough that returning with a slain dragon would be sufficient.

But if she slayed the dragon, as she has been trained to do, she would not be able to help Jake. It would all be for nothing. She doesn't care about the prestige it would bring her, not with how much it would cost her.

Dead dragons tell no tales, but they also keep their secrets.

"Please, just _let me go_," the dragon begs again.

She is trying to do this for Jake.

She doesn't want to lose him now.

But if it gets out that they'd captured the American Dragon and didn't even attempt to slay her or bring her back to the Huntsclan….

Rose already risks being branded as a traitor. She's known that from the moment she realized what Jake was and began taking measures to protect him. And she knows the betrayal of the Huntsclan will ultimately mean her death. Torture would come first, with more than a bit of truth serum—they would want to know her motives, find out everything she's discovered and if there's anything else she's keeping from them—but when they are finished with her, she would face the executioner.

Assuming they decided they didn't want her in the arena, as they wouldn't if they feared her actions might inspire others. That would depend on how the other initiates came to view her actions. If seeing her struggling to survive for a few more minutes would be a victory for the Huntsclan, a lesson to all those who dare contemplate defiance, it would be done, but if there was a chance of it becoming kindling for a resistance….

The Huntsclan is very careful about not making martyrs of those who dare to stand against them.

They might cover up her death entirely, changing their records and blaming the dragons.

Jake would have it far worse, if they manage to recover him and learn what he is. He would be subjected to all sorts of tests before his death. The Huntsclan would want to know everything they could about him. Whether or not he is a dragon by birth, the Huntsclan would conduct every experiment they could imagine. He is a perfect test subject.

It is a horror that Rose doesn't wish on anyone. She would rather slay Jake herself than have him face that. It would be a mercy.

But she doesn't want to lose him. She doesn't want to think about losing him. They haven't lost yet, and she can't think about failing now. She doesn't know if the dragons have fed him potions of their own to loosen his tongue, doesn't know what he might have been forced to tell them, but….

Rose lets out a slow breath, tears her eyes from the cave entrance, and spins to point her spear at the dragon. The dragon still flinches, but not as much as she had before. "If you wish for me to even consider granting you your freedom," Rose hissed, "you have to be willing to give me something in exchange."

The dragon straightens up despite the sphinx hair pressing into the skin of her mask, even though the same had had her wincing before. Rose can see faint red lines where her skin is burned, but the dragon has kept shifting and huddling, trying to have as little pressing on her as possible. Until now. "I won't betray the ones I'm meant to protect." Her voice only barely quavers. Rose won't let her know it, but she is impressed.

Rose withdraws her weapon. "Then tell me about yourself, dragon, if you won't speak of others. Why should I simply let you go? You must know enough about the Huntsclan to know the repercussions I would face if it came to light that I did so." She is very careful not to reference the dragon's apparent age. Rose does not want the dragon to know how difficult it is for her to remember that the little girl is most likely a mere mask rather than the dragon's true human form.

Although such youth, such inexperience, could explain why it might be.

Rose has been raised to be a warrior, and at eight, or ten, or possibly even six, or whatever age the dragon's guise is meant to be, she would have been better suited to this situation than the dragon. But she isn't sure if that's meant to be an act. The specific details of the American Dragon are scant, but Rose cannot remember another dragon being referred to as the American Dragon. It has always been this one. She has always been young, in training, an easier target than the more senior dragon that acts as her protector but nonetheless one that is not to be underestimated lest an initiate make fools of them all.

But if the dragon is merely as old as her form appears, Rose doubts that is true. She would have to have been in training since birth, and her true nature would not have shown so early. Either Rose's recollections are wrong or all references to the American Dragon have been kept deliberately vague. It is even possible that the dragons themselves spread false tales of the American Dragon to hide their weakness and that none of the earlier accounts Rose remembers are based in fact. Indeed, that might explain why the references have grown more pointed in recent years, once the dragon manifested her form. After all, Jake lived longer than this dragon appears to have before even discovering his nature, assuming it isn't a curse like he wishes it to be.

Rose is not certain he is so lucky. There has been nothing in the Huntslibrary. Not that there would be. It would be such a carefully guarded secret, and Jake might be the first subjected to it.

The dragon says nothing and looks away.

She might not be as foolish as Rose thought.

Or she might not be as young.

The silence between them stretches, and Rose eventually decides that it is safe to return to her vigil.

She doesn't expect the question when it comes. "Who is that dragon? The one who tricked me. Who is he?"

This time, it is Rose's turn to keep silent, even though she wants to spin around and demand how the dragon knew Jake was a _he_. Jake never spoke in her presence; the dragon shouldn't know _anything_ about him beyond the appearance of his dragon form. It takes more effort than she cares to admit to keep from turning her head to acknowledge the dragon's question. She tries to relax the grip on her spear, lest her white knuckles betray her.

"Why would he work with you? What did you do to him?"

Rose breathes in and out slowly, keeping her focus. She cannot afford to do anything that might betray Jake.

"Did you threaten his family? His friends? You must have some hold over him or he would've come for help."

Rose recognizes the desperate pitch of the dragon's voice. Too young to properly mask it or merely letting the appropriate amount leak into her voice to bolster her guise?

"He should know better than to believe any threat you made will disappear, just because he helped you this once," the dragon says bitterly. "He must be young, not to know the horrors of the Huntsclan. Or foolish."

There is uncertainty in her voice.

She doesn't believe the dragon she saw was so young.

She is not quite convinced the dragon is a fool, either, with how she had been played, led right into their trap.

"Or inexperienced?" Rose offers. She lets the slightest tinge of a sneer colour her voice, and she doesn't turn.

"Inexperienced would explain how he was flying," the dragon snaps. "He flies like he doesn't understand the wind."

He doesn't.

But Rose forces out a laugh and finally allows herself to turn. "Is that what you think?" Mocking. Taunting. She mustn't let the dragon know she needs to hear every word the dragon is willing to say.

"It's what I _know_. It's like no one ever taught him how to fly properly. I've seen fledgling pigeons from the nest outside my window do better." The little dragon glares at her. "Did you drug him? Find some concoction to feed him so he can't fly properly?"

_Find some concoction_. So she believes it possible but doesn't know of something in particular. Useful, but not the sort of information Rose wants. "What makes you think I had to give him anything at all?" She wants to bite back the words the moment they leave her mouth. She didn't want to confirm that the dragon was right in thinking Jake male, but it is too late. She resolves not to give away anything more. For Jake's sake, not her own.

"You wouldn't trust a dragon that didn't have some sort of leash," the dragon spits. "You won't cut me free of this net, even knowing I'm too weak to do anything to you now."

"Or so you'd have me believe."

"You know what sphinx hair does to dragons or you wouldn't use it. If we could build up a tolerance to this, it wouldn't be a weapon for you anymore."

Which explains Jake's collapse, back when he was trying to use it to suppress his dragon form. There is no such thing as a low enough dose for that. Not that she had thought there was, but at least the dragon's words validate some of what they'd been taught.

Rose can see, behind the dragon's anger, how tired she looks. This fight is costing her precious strength, but she's decided to take a stand. She's decided that it's worth the effort. She thinks she must try, even if she cannot win.

It's curious that she'd spend her time fighting for a dragon who seems to have betrayed her rather than her own freedom, but Rose is merely grateful that this fight has replaced weepy pleas. She is more comfortable with sharp words, growing up with those who value silver tongues as much as fighting ability. Sharp words are hard to guard and much clearer than those choked out between sobs.

"Whatever hold you have over him," the dragon continues, "whatever you've threatened, or whatever you've promised…. Just know that I _will_ protect him."

Rose's laugh is nearly genuine; she can hardly believe the dragon's incredible claim, and that makes it easy to pour derision into her tone. "You cannot even protect yourself."

The dragon cocks her head, and for the first time she smiles. It is enough to cause the smirk to fall from Rose's face, not that the dragon can see her expression beneath her mask. "Do I need to?"

The words send ice down Rose's spine, and she digs the butt of her spear into the sand and hopes the dragon doesn't notice her trembling.

"If you wanted me dead, you would have slain me already." The words are spoken so matter-of-factly. Rose can't tell when the dragon came to this conclusion, when she'd begun to hope that her death might not be soon. "Or you would've taken me back as a prize, to play with and slay later. I thought…. I thought you might want me like this, instead of in my dragon form, because it would be easier for you to get rid of me, or because it might give you some more information about me. But you can hardly look at me. I'm not who you expect."

"Dragons are never what you expect," Rose says. The snarl has faded from her words; she can hardly say them with any strength at all. At least her voice isn't trembling. "It's not safe to rely upon assumptions, to expect that anything will be like it has ever been before."

The dragon nods slowly and wraps her arms around herself again. The fight is leaving her, and she's beginning to shiver again. "Will you at least tell me what you really want? I might…. I might be able to help, in exchange for my freedom."

"Wouldn't that make you young and foolish, striking a deal with the Huntsclan?"

"It wouldn't be a deal with the Huntsclan," the dragon whispers. "It would just be a deal with you." She falls silent for a moment, waiting for Rose to speak—to _agree_—and when she doesn't, she adds, "Cut me free if you change your mind. You can keep the net nearby, but…take it off of me, please. And let me see your face, since you know mine."

Rose turns away again.

She doesn't know if she wants to drive her spear through the dragon's heart or pull the dagger from her boot and slice through the sphinx hair.

She's afraid she's telling herself lies.

She looks at the stars again, sees how they've moved, and her heart sinks.

They are running out of time.


	10. Murky Waters

Haley jerks back when she sees silver flash in Huntsgirl's hand, and she is too shocked that the blade slices through the bindings of the suffocating net instead of biting into her flesh to feel relieved.

Even once Huntsgirl wrenches the net free, pulling away weight that Haley didn't have the strength to lift, she is too wary to find any comfort in Huntsgirl's actions.

"Is it more fun for you if I run?" Haley asks quietly. She doesn't want that knife in her back, even if it might be quicker; she'd rather fight—_try_ to fight—even if she isn't sure of success.

Huntsgirl reaches up and tears off her mask with her free hand. She is younger than Haley expects, especially given her reputation and skill. "I need you to tell me how you control your abilities. Your…dragon abilities."

Haley stares. Huntsgirl isn't trying to hide the desperation on her face or in her voice, but it doesn't…. "Why?" she asks. The Huntsclan already knows her abilities, and she'd thought they'd have been able to discern how she controlled them. Huntsgirl doesn't answer, so Haley adds, "Focus, mostly. Concentration, until it becomes second nature."

"Second nature," Huntsgirl repeats, and there is something in her tone that Haley can't pinpoint—not quite flatness, not quite disbelief. "But what about your training?"

"Practice, control, forms." Haley shrugs. "If it weren't for flying, it might not be terribly different from yours. More chores, maybe. Even common motions like scrubbing can help me to react faster in a fight later where I need to use that motion."

Huntsgirl frowns. "Show me. All the forms you can remember."

"But…why?"

"Just _show me_," growls Huntsgirl. The knife is still in her hand, and Haley is not convinced she won't use it to injure, so she starts to go through some of the forms.

She is halfway through, working her way up to the more strenuous ones, before it occurs to her that Huntsgirl may be trying to learn her fighting style. She might be trying to figure out what moves Haley will make and then determine how best to defend against them. She hesitates. Huntsgirl hasn't been mirroring her motions; she's been watching her with narrowed eyes, memorizing every minute movement.

Haley knows she doesn't have the strength to run, but it's unlikely that Huntsgirl knows how long it takes for her to recover from the sphinx hair, especially when it's in such close proximity. "I'm sorry," she says. "I'm getting tired. I need to rest."

"You don't have _time_ to rest."

"I don't have the energy to do everything properly," Haley counters, and Huntsgirl's mouth thins.

"Fine," she spits. "Sit. Rest. We can talk instead."

Haley doesn't know what to expect when Huntsgirl begins asking questions. They seem too peculiar, too pointed, to be mere information gathering. For the most part, Haley answers as truthfully as she can, as truthfully as she dares. She's not sure how many questions Huntsgirl already knows the answers to, but there is no doubt she suspects most of what Haley says. The slight scowls or smiles or nods are more common than widened eyes.

Eventually, Huntsgirl tells her to continue her forms, that she should be rested enough.

Haley doesn't dare feign more weakness yet, so she obeys.

This time, Huntsgirl's questions continue, and Haley finds it more difficult to guard her words. Banter in battle has never been a strong suit of hers. Unless she is with others, she prefers to fight silently. She doesn't want to accidently give anything away to the enemy.

She thinks, given her current struggles, that she should ask Fu for lessons.

_He_ is never shy for words.

It seems like hours pass before the sky gives any hint of lightening, though Haley knows it likely hasn't been that long. The moment the sky begins to turn a slightly lighter blue, a hint of teal with the barest touch of pink, Huntsgirl tugs the mask over her head again. She pulls a length of cloth out and gestures for Haley to come closer. She was expecting it to go over her wrists, perhaps even to tether them together, but it goes over her eyes.

Her heart sinks.

"Are…are you taking me back to the Huntsclan after all?" Her voice shakes, and she tries to squash down the rising panic. She'd dared to hope. She'd been so foolish. She—

"No." Huntsgirl's voice is quiet. "Your people captured my partner. I intend to make an exchange. But you will be stronger for the journey back, and I can't have you tracking every step that easily."

Haley licks her lips. "But this won't be a standard base for you. You wouldn't risk showing it to me if it were."

"It isn't," Huntsgirl agrees easily, "but I like it. The others don't know about it."

"Except your partner." Huntsgirl doesn't need to confirm it; Haley already knows that much is true, even if nothing else is. "Why is he so important? Is he the dragon handler?" She says the words flippantly, but she wonders if they're true. The dragon must have a contact, and she isn't convinced it would be someone with as high a profile as Huntsgirl. He would have known to be wary if it were. He would have been able to run before they ever got a hold on him that he didn't dare break.

Huntsgirl doesn't answer, but Haley doesn't really expect her to.

She had hoped, though, that Huntsgirl would leave the sphinx hair behind. Haley feels the cord even before Huntsgirl ties it around her wrist. It isn't much, but she can already feel it draining the energy she had. It isn't something she can fight for long, and she isn't in a state to try now. Her earlier pretense is long over.

She isn't gagged, and Huntsgirl doesn't warn her against screaming. Haley doesn't think it's a foolish oversight. She thinks it's a gesture of trust.

But she knows they must be too far away for anyone to hear her now, anyway.

Haley is grateful when Huntsgirl picks her up and carries her; it is better than stumbling blindly. She'd prefer that if she were being taken back to the Huntsclan headquarters, of course, wanting to stall as long as possible, but she believes Huntsgirl's words.

She wants to make an exchange.

Her partner is important, even if she won't say why.

Perhaps he is merely important to her, but Haley doubts it. He must have some connection to the dragon. Perhaps _he_ is the one with the hold over the other dragon, not the Huntsclan at large. That may be why she is still alive.

It may also explain Huntsgirl's questions and the reason she waited so long to ask them, instead of simply demanding answers earlier. Haley would have refused to give them, of course, for as long as she could, but—

Huntsgirl stops, and Haley knows that are not remotely near the same place from which she was taken. She suspects the direction is different, but she knows the journey was shorter. "What's going on?" she whispers, half-afraid to ask, but Huntsgirl doesn't shush her.

Instead, she sits Haley on the ground and pulls off the blindfold. Haley squints. It takes longer than she cares to admit to recognize where they are.

"There's a phone booth over there," Huntsgirl says, pointing toward the street. "You're going to make a phone call. Tell the others where you are and that one of them is to bring my partner in exchange, or I will drive my spear through your heart."

Haley frowns, but she can't detect any hint of exaggeration.

"If I suspect any subterfuge, on their part or yours, I'll do so anyway. And if they've harmed my partner, they won't fare any better."

"I don't understand why you're doing this," Haley says as Huntsgirl walks her toward the phone at spearpoint. Haley doesn't know this area well, but she knows there are no cameras in this spot, and she knows anyone who did see them wouldn't interfere. Or call the police. Huntsgirl doesn't think she'll be caught.

Haley fears she is right.

"You don't have to understand," Huntsgirl says. She hands Haley some coins and readies her spear again.

Haley sighs, slips the coins into the slot, and guards the number pad as she dials.

The phone at the shop is picked up on the first ring, but no one answers until she speaks. It's her mother. Haley blinks back tears, but she keeps the conversation brief. She tells them Huntsgirl's terms and doesn't use their names.

Huntsgirl pulls them both back into the shadows to wait, but in what Haley assumes is a gesture of trust, she cuts away the sphinx hair that bound her. When Haley musters up the strength to change, she does. The spear she expects doesn't come. When Haley looks, Huntsgirl isn't surprised. It is like she expected this. She knows Haley won't willingly share her human identity with any others in the Huntsclan.

But she keeps the sphinx hair close by instead of burning it. Close enough to keep Haley too weak to fly, to fight, but not so weak that she cannot hold her form.

For someone who was asking so many questions about dragons, Huntsgirl already seems to know how to wield that particular weapon against them.

It is a long time before a car pulls up. Haley doesn't recognize it, but Susan gets out, her face hidden behind an old Halloween mask. She walks around to the passenger door, opens it, and helps a blindfolded figure to their feet. Huntsgirl's partner.

Huntsgirl nudges Haley forward without a word, and they walk to meet Susan on neutral ground—as much as a dirty stretch of sidewalk has ever been neutral ground. Huntsgirl's partner fidgets as he waits, perhaps as surprised by Huntsgirl's actions as Haley had been. Susan had removed his blindfold, but the dark eyes that stare at them betray nothing.

"99, report," Huntsgirl says, too quietly to be barked but her tone still stiff with command.

"Uninjured," he says sourly. "Drugs." Then, "You shouldn't be doing this. Rule 104."

Haley doesn't know if that's a real rule or some code word between them, but Huntsgirl hisses through her teeth and shoves Haley forward. Her free hand grabs 99, and they retreat into the shadows. Even watching with dragon eyes, they are difficult to pick out.

"They're gone," she finally whispers, and Susan drops to a crouch and embraces her.

"I was so worried," she breathes. "I thought I'd lost you."

Haley doesn't say anything. She just buries her head in her mother's shoulder, ignoring the tickle of false hair from her mother's disguise, and allows herself to cry again.


	11. Responsibilities

Haley stares at the numbers on the page, willing them to make sense, but they don't.

She's usually good at math. It's easy for her. Everything has a proper order. Everything follows rules. It's logical. She can reason it out.

But today—and for the past few weeks, really—all she can think about is what happened the night she was taken.

She's searched. She still goes out every night, though she's gotten so worn down that she's agreed to only do partial shifts, just a few hours of patrol before it's back to bed. But she hasn't heard anything about the other dragon. She hasn't even come across a magical creature who's seen it before. At least, not one that she trusts is telling the truth.

How could the Huntsclan get their hands on a dragon, win his loyalty, and not have _anyone_ hear about it? Even from a friend of a friend? She had thought—had _hoped_—Fu would come up with something from his poker contacts, but even he came back empty-handed.

Haley has watched for Huntsgirl, too, hoping to find her alone. She doesn't know if it's a boon or a curse that she hasn't seen hide or hair of any member of the Huntsclan since her ordeal. She…she still isn't sure what she traded away. What Huntsgirl is doing with everything Haley taught her. It's disquieting.

Fu tells her not to worry. That she did what she had to to save her own skin. That she didn't give away anything the Huntsclan wouldn't have been able to divine anyway. But Haley's heard him whisper to Gramps, to her mother, and she's heard her parents talking in low voices long after she's been sent to bed and they think she's asleep.

Her dad still doesn't know everything. She thought he might, after this. But while he knew they thought she might've been taken, he believed the police had been searching for her and not the magical community. He still didn't know she was the American Dragon. He still didn't know what that meant. Susan had told him as much of the truth as she possibly could without telling him the thing that mattered most.

Haley had asked her about that once they'd gotten back. Why she hadn't told him everything then and there. Susan had admitted that she'd considered it. She'd said that she didn't think Jonathan would take it poorly, that she didn't think they'd need to run and hide and never see him again—but she'd also said that she'd thought it important that they tell him together.

Given how often Haley can remember her father explaining away magical happenings simply by viewing them through the lens of the ordinary world, she can't blame her mother for wanting to wait a little longer. It would be a lot easier to prove that they weren't crazy if Haley could transform and do a loop around the living room than if Susan had to haul home one of the magic books from the shop, seeing as everyone else had been too busy with the search to come with her to tell Jonathan.

Haley knows that he thinks she isn't sleeping well because of what happened, and that's partially right. She wants to tell him everything. Susan's agreed. They'll tell him, with or without Gramps's blessing, but…. But Susan had left Haley to choose _when_ to tell her father, and she finally understands why her mother could never decide when to do it. How to do it.

She wants to wait for a time when there isn't danger, but she doesn't know if that time will ever come. She is the American Dragon. Even if the magical community within the NYC is safe and doing well, that doesn't mean the community at large is the same. She knows she needs to rely on Gramps's network right now, that it's not realistic for her to take over guarding her entire territory when she's not even in middle school, let alone through high school, but—

She still feels responsible. It still hurts whenever she hears of something she could have prevented, if she'd known about it in time or been close enough to help. And this dragon…. His capture by the Huntsclan must also be a failing on her part. She _needs_ to find him.

But Huntsgirl had revealed little more to Haley than her appearance, and 99 hadn't given them anything useful, either. They know he is valuable to the Huntsclan, or at least to Huntsgirl, but they have no solid evidence as to why, and speculation….

Haley knows speculating, all on its own, can be dangerous. It's too likely to lead to _assumptions_ when she's searching for answers, not just _possibilities_. It's great for opening doors, for thinking of things she might otherwise overlook. But one gesture of trust from Huntsgirl now will not guarantee trust from her in the future, and the dragon….

The dragon might not be the only magical creature the Huntsclan has captured and is using. If they can contain a dragon, they could surely find and pressure other magical creatures. It makes it much more difficult to trust anyone.

Haley really isn't sure if no one knows anything about the Huntsclan's captive dragon or if they are all simply too afraid to say anything to Fu about it.

Just like how she's afraid to—

"How goes the number crunching, Haley Hoo?"

There's a warm hand on her shoulder, and she glances up at Jonathan. "Not that great," she admits. "I'm having trouble focusing."

"Maybe you just need to give your brain a break and get the old blood pumping again!"

Haley's smile freezes on her face. "Dad, I don't—"

"It'll be a good distraction."

She hesitates, as much because he's right as because exercising with him would make him happy. She enjoys spending time with him, and he's been so concerned since the kidnapping. She can see it in his eyes, that shadowed concern. He's never expressed it outright to her, not in so many words, but he's been telling her that he loves her more often than before, and she hears the old assurances that she can tell him anything, that he'll listen even if she doesn't want to tell him everything, and she just….

She can't be afraid forever.

And even if it feels like she's looking for a needle in a haystack, trying to find the dragon—and discover how he ended up as a captive of the Huntsclan—is more like poking a sleeping bear than anything else.

What happened before might happen again.

It might be worse.

She doesn't need to have seen her father's heartbreak to be able to imagine it.

She doesn't want to be responsible for making this worse by pretending it isn't what it is.

"Yeah," she says. "You're right." She bites her lip and then speaks the next words before she changes her mind. "I want to have a family meeting after supper."

There is a time for lies, for half-truths and outright omissions, but that time has passed.

"Of course," Jonathan agrees immediately. "I'll let your mom know. She should be back from her errand soon."

He thinks Haley is ready to tell them her side of the story. He knows he hasn't heard it all, even if he rightly suspects Susan knows more than he does. He hasn't pushed either of them on the subject, which Haley appreciates more than she can ever tell him. Even without knowing everything, he's always supported her. Always been there for her.

It's one of the reasons she knows this is the right decision.

She also knows Gramps won't be entirely happy that she's decided to tell her father now, but as far as she's concerned, Jonathan has more than earned the right to know. He can keep a secret, and he will keep their secret. She has no doubt about that, even if it takes him a while to get used to the idea. But even if Gramps doesn't wholly approve of her timing—or of telling Jonathan in the first place—it's not his decision. She's the American Dragon, and her mom was the one who suggested it in the first place. Besides, a family meeting is just for the three of them, to be called whenever someone has something important they want to say or want discussed. Susan will know what Haley's decision to call a meeting means. They'll tell him together.

And then, maybe, they can be just a little bit more prepared for whatever comes next.


	12. Slitted Pupils, Serpent Tongue

Perhaps it's foolish, thinking he can find her when she could be anywhere within the NYC, but Jake is willing to try.

He knows what she looks like and what she sounds like, which will be more useful to him than the name she'd given him. That could all too easily be a pseudonym. Still, given her appearance and her apparent ties to the dragons, Chinatown isn't the worst place to begin his search.

Besides, without his uniform, he blends in here—even if he can't speak of a word of any Chinese dialect. All he's done is covered up his birthmark with makeup, which isn't terribly unusual when members of the Huntsclan are going out in public anyway. Not knowing where the dragons are or what they look like, hiding their marks is essential.

He doesn't tell Rose what he's doing. Since the night of his capture, she has watched him more closely than before. It's not that she's worried that they might have done something to him, exactly. Not as far as he can tell, anyway. They had run an extensive series of tests to detect hidden magic—the same tests they had tried in secret before, back after Rose had first discovered his secret—and they had long ago learned how to destroy both magical and electronic trackers that had been placed on them. They had taken precautions that night. They hadn't been careless, yet….

There are secrets between them now. He wonders if Rose suspects something, if she knows that he's up to something now that stems from that night. He wonders what the American Dragon told her. He knows they must have exchanged information—she has already been giving him tips when they manage their private training sessions, away from prying eyes—but he does not know what she offered for it. She deflects every time he asks, the subject invariably sliding away even when he tries to press the point.

That's why he knows it's more than just giving the American Dragon her freedom.

He supposes he cannot point fingers. He only told Rose what she would already suspect: that while he was interrogated by the dragons, they kept their identities hidden. He isn't sure why he's keeping this excursion a secret from her when she knows everything else.

Well.

Probably because he hasn't told her what Susan had told him about the Huntsclan. About _them_. _Those who are not recruited are stolen at birth and raised into the life._

It means they might still have families out there. Families who don't know what happened to them. Families who would love them. It's…unsettling.

Jake makes multiple trips to Chinatown whenever he can, trying to pretend he belongs there. He's been in so many shops, so many different marketplaces, and he doesn't know if he should start over or look elsewhere. When he finally does see her, he isn't sure if he's right, if it's really her.

He follows the woman anyway, convinced every time he catches a better glimpse of her that he's following the right person but not brave enough to call out.

Even with all his skills, she notices. She rounds a corner onto a less busy street, one he's frequented before, and he waits a moment before following. He doesn't wait long enough. She spins, turning back to confront him almost as soon as he's around the corner. He's caught off guard, too startled at finding her to properly recover.

"What do you want?" she hisses. Her mouth smiles but her eyes do not, and danger lurks in her tone.

Unbidden fear squirms its way to the surface, and Jake can't keep it out of his voice as he squeaks out, "Are you Susan?"

The false smile drops as her eyes narrow. Her hand comes down on his arm, hard. Not a grip he can't break if he tries, but it would be difficult. He lets her drag him into the nearest alley. "What do you want?" she repeats.

He swallows. "Help," he whispers. A forked tongue tastes the air before darting back inside his mouth, and a blink reveals dragon eyes. "Please."

Her grip falters. Drops. She's staring at him.

He licks his lips with his human tongue. "99 told me about you," he says quietly, calling himself by his Huntsclan number. He doesn't dare tell her they're the same person. He doesn't think he spoke enough when he'd been her captive that she would remember his voice, not when that night was weeks ago and has time to get muddled in her mind, and she never saw more than his eyes. He knows this is still a risk, but it's a calculated one. More to the point, it's one he's willing to make.

He hardly has a choice.

Ignoring the truth will not make the problem of it disappear.

"He said…." Jake trails off, trying to figure out the best way to say this. He's run over it in his mind so many times, but he now he can't remember the right words. "He said you might be able to help me."

She looks him up and down. Her expression gives away nothing, but her eyes slip right over his concealed mark. It's too early to relax, but— "Why would he say anything to you?"

Jake thinks of Rose, of everything she's risked in helping him, and answers honestly, "Not everyone in the Huntsclan is as terrible as you believe."

She looks unconvinced, but she knows the dragons, and if she knows the dragons, she is no stranger to stories of the Huntsclan. "Are you their prisoner?"

Jake hesitates, knowing what she's truly asking and not sure how much he can say. Her face is already closing off when he mumbles, "It's more of a reluctant partnership." He cannot pretend to be a captive of the Huntsclan. They would never let a prisoner wander, and he's far too healthy for that anyway—especially now that he's taken to avoiding sphinx hair as much as possible instead of trying to use it to suppress the dragon in him. She'd be able to see that he's well taken care of, or at least taken care of better than any prisoner would be, and she'd know enough about them to be suspicious of that.

"Do you want out?" Susan asks. "Or is this another ploy?"

He doesn't know.

He wishes he did.

It would be easier.

"I can't help you," she finally says when he can't break his silence. "I can't risk them."

The dragons, she means. The _other_ dragons.

She looks like she might cry. He doesn't know why, but the sight of it makes something inside him twist. "Please," he begs. The desperation in his voice isn't faked. "Please, I don't know what else to do."

He wishes it weren't the truth, but it is.

He's a dragon, hiding from the Huntsclan, from the only family he's ever known, and he _doesn't know what to do_.

He no longer thinks this a mere curse, some ploy of the American Dragon and her friends. He still wants to deny it, but he cannot. If this is a curse, it was not laid on him by them. When Susan had asked after the well-being of the dragon, she'd wanted to know if he was safe. There had been no gloating in her tone, no hint of a secret he didn't know that she did, nothing that would indicate they were behind this.

His plan—Rose's plan—might not have worked as well as it had if they had found a way to curse him, after all. If they'd known to expect a foreign dragon, created by some magic of theirs, the American Dragon wouldn't have followed him so readily.

He _is_ a dragon, just as he is a member of the Huntsclan. And he could be killed for it. Without hesitation. Without remorse. Rose is his only ally with them, and they would force her to turn against him. She would be expected to slay him, just as they are expected to slay all dragons. And the dragons…. The dragons won't accept him if they discover that he has been raised by the Huntsclan. If the truth comes out, both sides will want him dead.

The truth of it is terrifying.

He'll have to shed one side of himself for the other to survive, and he has no idea how he can do that.

"I'm sorry," Susan says, and now she is crying, even if she won't acknowledge her wet cheeks by wiping at her eyes.

"Even just you?" he asks. He knows she is protective of them, knows the fact that she showed him her face and gave him her name that first time was as much of a gesture of trust as he'd ever get. She hadn't revealed herself to Huntsgirl, even knowing he'd likely tell her anyway. Huntsgirl is too important, too much of a figure within the Huntsclan. As far as Susan knows, he is a simple initiate.

Except she might not believe that anymore, given Rose's exchange and the risks she took to get him back.

Given the fact that she thought him valuable enough to give up the American Dragon.

Susan might not need to see his mark to know that the Huntsclan is the only family 99 has ever known. The only family _he_ has ever known. He never had to choose the Huntsclan; he had been destined to join them.

He wonders if that makes Susan wary, too, even though she doesn't know he's 99.

"Not them," he adds, trying to override the denial he can see forming on her lips. "Not the others. Not yet. But you? You must know something. You must be able to _do_ something."

He needs help. He needs more than just Rose. Whatever information she managed to glean from the American Dragon isn't enough, and they both know it. He's good at keeping himself hidden—learning not to panic had been the first step in stopping himself from transforming any part of himself unintentionally—but his luck won't last forever. There could be diseases that he doesn't know about, dietary concerns, some common calamity that all dragons go through that isn't listed in any of the books in the Huntslibrary….

However careful he is, ignorance will expose him in the end.

He can't run away. He has nowhere to go. If the Huntsclan has records of where he came from—where _any_ of them came from—they're kept somewhere other than the Huntslibrary. He cannot risk searching for them, especially when those records might not exist—or when his family might not still live. He doesn't want to think too much about that. He doesn't know what it is done to the families of those like him, the stolen children, but the Huntsclan does not take risks.

Besides, even if he _had_ somewhere to go, he'd be tracked down as a deserter. He's been raised in this life; it's not as if he's within his first year of training. He cannot simply renounce his connection to the Huntsclan. He knows too much.

"Please," Jake whispers again. "Please, help me."

This time, Susan is the one who hesitates.


	13. A Time for Truths

"I'm a dragon," Haley says, because she doesn't know a better way to say it. She glances at Susan. "Mom's family…. They're all dragons."

"It skipped my generation," Susan says quietly, "but it's true. There's a reason all the family reunions on my side happen to fall when you are too busy at work to get away."

Jonathan's eyes are wide, but he says nothing.

Haley gets to her feet, walks the short distance to the middle of the living room, and transforms. The curtains are pulled, the outside world cut off, and it's just the three of them. For once, she doesn't need to be careful. She doesn't need to be sure that her father is out of the house or out of the room or distracted enough to not notice. This time, she wants his full attention, even…. Even if it doesn't go as well as she hopes, she wants him to know. He deserves to know.

Jonathan is clutching Susan's hand, but he doesn't scream, not even when Haley approaches him and holds out one hand so he can examine it, scales and claws and all.

"This…is real," he says when he finally begins to prod at it. She keeps her hand loose, letting him shift her fingers and pick at the edges of her scales. "It's real. These…. It's not…."

"Magic is real," Susan whispers. "Magic is real, and dragons above all other magical creatures are tasked with keeping the mortal world from knowing that."

Jonathan lets out a nervous chuckle. "No wonder your father hasn't warmed up to me."

"He knows you're a good man, that you have a good heart, but he knows how dangerous this knowledge is."

Jonathan doesn't ask why they didn't tell him before.

He doesn't ask why they've chosen to tell him now.

He doesn't pretend they kept this from him because they don't trust him, and Haley realizes it must be because he knows that they love him.

It lets her release a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, because it also means that he still loves them.

Not that she'd ever really thought he'd take it poorly. It's just…. It's hard not to be nervous. This is a secret that's been kept from him since long before she was born, and it's one that could tear her family apart. But he isn't going to let it. He's still holding onto them both, her and her mother, and he isn't going to let them go. He isn't going to push them away.

"I have to admit," Susan says quietly, "that you're taking this better than I'd ever hoped."

"You were always magical to me," he replies. Then he grins down at Haley. "Of course, I didn't think of you as _magical_ magical, but I did suspect that there might be some family secret you all had. I just figured it was something between you girls that you didn't want to let the old man in on, and ladies are entitled to their secrets."

He isn't mad, not in the slightest. Not about the years of secrets, not about the depth of the secret, not about anything.

Her dragon face isn't as expressive as her human one, at least not to those who aren't used to reading them, but Jonathan must see something of her emotions in it because he releases Susan's hand and gathers Haley in a hug. He has to readjust his grip around her wings, and she laughs as he carefully lifts her up onto his lap. "This is just a part of who you are," he says to her. "I never saw it before, as much because I never looked for anything more as because you didn't want me to know, but that's okay. You're still my little girl. You'll always be my little girl. My little dragon daughter."

"Our little dragon daughter," Susan adds, wrapping her arms around them both. She shifts her head, angling her mouth towards Jonathan's ear, and murmurs, "Thank you."

"There's nothing to thank me for," he replies, but Haley's sure there is. He could have been angry about the secrets. He could have scorned them and driven them away. He could have threatened to expose them. He could have tried to deny the truth in front of him, preferring an old lie to the magical reality.

Haley gives him a fierce squeeze before pulling back. "I'm the American Dragon," she says, though she knows he doesn't understand what that means. She tells him, Susan interjecting with the little details when she sees Jonathan's face begin to crease with worry. It never settles quite smooth again, staying a little pinched around his eyes. Despite all Susan's reassurances, despite the precautions she and Gramps and Fu have taken, he's still worried.

"Your disappearance?"

He poses it as a question, but it's not. It's a truth. Haley and Susan tell him about the Huntsclan. Haley tells him about Huntsgirl, Susan about 99, and Haley finishes by confessing what she's been doing these last few weeks. How she's been looking for any sign of the dragon the Huntsclan has captured. The dragon she needs to save, if she can find any of them again.

Jonathan frowns. "Are dragons common?" he asks, looking between the two of them. "Besides your family, are there many others?"

"There are others," Susan answers, "but they're not common. Haley's description of this one has been circulated in the magical community, but no one knows who he is. No one knows of a missing dragon. If they do, the Huntsclan has them too afraid to admit it, and that means they've given up hope of ever freeing him."

"A secret ninja society and a rogue dragon," muses Jonathan. "It's right up there with talking dogs and a magic shop full of potion ingredients." He looks between Haley and Susan as he asks, "What can I do to help you, Haley Hoo?"

"For now, it's safest if you don't try to do anything," Susan says. "If Huntsgirl finds Haley, we'll all be in danger, but that doesn't mean we can't fight back."

"Not sure I'd do too well against someone like that."

"Honey, you'd do just fine." Susan's lips are quirked with amusement now, pulling at one corner. "You scared off a pair of hobgoblins when we were dating. That's when I knew I could follow my heart and not have to worry about you every moment."

"I what?"

"You thought they were trying to mug me," Susan says. Laughter dances in her voice. "I rather think they were trying to capture me and use me as bait to get at my father, but they never got me because you were there. As I recall, you wouldn't even let me lift a finger in my defense. You were determined to prove to me—and perhaps to yourself—that you could protect me as well as I could protect you."

Jonathan blinks. "Those were _hobgoblins_?"

"Dad really fought hobgoblins?" Haley knows it must be true, but she's never pictured her dad fighting anyone. She's faced a few evil hobgoblins in the past, and it was never a particularly easy fight.

"Hobgoblins, a few rogue pixies, and that one dwarf, but the dwarf was more an interaction than a fight," Susan says. "That's only what I've been around for, of course."

Haley starts to laugh. It's as much a release of her fear as it is a signal of hope, because she finally thinks they might have a chance. Maybe Huntsgirl will be able to find her, but Jonathan won't be completely unprepared, and she doesn't have to hide the truth anymore. And if she finds the dragon, or if any of them hear anything that might lead to the dragon or to Huntsgirl or to 99, especially now that Fu won't have to guard his tongue around Jonathan—

Maybe they can do this after all.

Maybe they'll be able to rescue the dragon, and maybe…. Maybe showing Huntsgirl her face won't turn out to be the death sentence Haley had feared, just like telling her father that he'd married into a family of reptiles hadn't gone terribly.

Mostly, though…. Mostly, Haley appreciates the freedom she feels. She hadn't realized how restricting it was before, dancing around the subject of the magical world whenever her father was in earshot. "I'm glad we don't have any secrets between us anymore," Haley says.

"Me, too," her father agrees, giving her a kiss on her forehead and not even flinching as her scales brush his skin.

Susan just hugs them both, and Haley ignores the wetness on her mother's cheeks.


End file.
